


Poetry Splurge

by tabletoptime



Category: Original Work
Genre: Poetry, but hey why not post it somewhere?, i'll add more specific tags if i include poems inspired by or about other stuff, some of it sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabletoptime/pseuds/tabletoptime
Summary: Bits and bobs that I've liked. Mostly fun with language without too much heavy meaning.





	1. Headspace

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the poems are pretty short, so I've tried to sort them by general theme to prevent an excess of chapters.

The sky will be forever stamped on my soul  
A claim of blue, white, and grey  
Stretching from end to end 

Blanketing everything  
that I am  
That I was  
that I will ever be

Bands of water vapour,  
Alight with the sun’s radiance,  
Binding together  
The places I stretch thin.

Swathes of burning mist  
Echoed in the illuminated haze of my mind.

Singing wind  
Whispering of change  
Dances in my hair  
And teases my heart.

Aching bright blue  
Coats my tongue  
While wispy white cotton  
Catches in my throat

My skin is filled with air  
Not empty but full  
So full I may burst  
Under its encompassing weight

I know that I am  
Owned, wholly and utterly  
By the limitless expanse  
Curled around my bones  
And under my skin.

And as I breathe in that which holds my soul,  
I find peace.

*************************************

Math is the language of creation.  
It defines and explains,  
Allowing fragments of data  
To interact and play. 

We are variables incarnate;  
Each of us a function given life.  
To understand ourselves,  
We solve for x. 

Through lines of algebra,  
And rearranging values,  
We search for our own solutions  
And check their viability. 

I have faced my equation,  
Taken the time and care  
To strip apart its polynomials  
And isolate my own intercepts. 

What I found is…  
Disheartening. 

When I test my x’s,  
The truths defining my soul,  
I find that each and every one is  
Extraneous. 

*************************************

I got in a fistfight in my heart last night.  
She didn’t fight back, only let my fists strike  
And leave her flesh unblemished.

I was lost and it was raining. It was raining and I was lost.  
It was a shining labyrinth, of stairs, stone, and steel.  
I was there to learn, but my fellow students didn’t care  
Instead they focused on flaws not my own.

They pitied me for perceived hurts I will deny,  
Made possible by an impossible betrayal;  
Knowledge never given carbon-copied.

Even with a roof over my head there was  
Water in my bones and an indignation in my lungs  
As I snarled with my knuckles.

Rage slicked across the top of my liquid humiliation  
Before phantom violence set it alight  
And scorched the underside of my skin.

Darkness peeled away from my tongue  
As the daylight haze ignited my self  
And left the fury of night alone in the  
Morning’s mist.

*************************************

The blood and bone filling my skin  
Punch holes in the soles of my feet  
Leaving history in my wake and  
Draining potential to feed the grass.

Splattered hopes speckling emerald blades,  
Weaving copper rubies between my toes.

The grass is so slippery as I step;  
But is it morning tears, my own failings,  
Or the paths of other before me  
Making my way cold, slick, and treacherous?

The air kisses my lungs with tooth and claw  
And embraces my hands with wailing thorns.  
Dawn’s phantom glow stealing my colours  
To paint the sky to life.

There is no shame in shadows,  
Nor in the shade left alone in my skin.  
Yet the starving wraith in this backwards dusk  
Is caught in a cage of remorse,  
Letting all that could have saved us  
Slip away from our frozen fingers.

*************************************

My head is filled with lead;  
Soft, poisonous, and oh so heavy.  
It brings the water of ancient Rome to  
The back of my

Tongue holding tight to countless cruelties,  
Leashing the blades and edges that  
Lurk deep inside

My bones are nothing more than creaking  
Dead wood. The weight of years  
Rests like armour, spiked on the inside,  
Just below my

Skin-tight hope that leaves for too little  
Hidden and unto myself, instead baring to  
The world All this I would nails to

The underside of my ribs. But hush now. Hold my  
Breath in buzzing fingers and feed it  
Back into my lungs. Let the fear sing  
But focus on the gut’s drive and ignore the flying  
stones . Wrap the hope in my work sticky skin.

The masking tape that holds hut my  
Mouth is dry and cracking, and though I fear  
That which could spill forth,  
I still flutter

*************************************

A static maelstrom lives tucked behind  
My sinuses. It's no worse than seasonal sniffles,  
But there are times when the fuzzed lighting tears  
At my dried out lacerations.

I still know the coll press of what wasn't my wall  
against my back, and I know the goose-warmth of  
my knees tucked against my chest. I know that  
Socks are meant for transaction,

But I also know how much time they can buy.

The backs of my thighs still itch with the scratch of carpet  
And the incandescent swirl clings to my eyelids.  
The denial on my tongue gums my mouth shut, even now,  
against the hand between my legs' motion.

Soft smooth skin found its way beneath fingers and  
lips, and there isn't enough soap between the two  
of Us. He showers as he does everything; first in all things.  
I will follow slowly and, in an empty prism, look for reconciliation

between love and what's been done. This pain is not the scissors to  
Love's strings,  
and the mistakes of youth will not sever kin(although they sever trust's tendons)

I do wish for an admission of his earth-shaking midnightsin,  
So I can perhaps find beneath my bones some kind of absolution 

Buried


	2. Simple Things

Songs in silver and bronze,  
Carried by marbled gold winds  
Over fields of dust, life, and ash.

Moonbright breath, rising to the sky,  
Intertwining with crystal flecks  
In the tune of mirror music.

Shrill steps ring, sharp and true,  
In a pendulum beat,  
Curling over and around in  
Melodic footwork across glass.

The pounding bass echoes in muscled chambers  
And through tuning forks of bone,  
Thrumming, humming, an incessant boom as  
Rippled ponds turn to tidal forces.

Overtures of tempo trapped in fumbling fingers.  
Incompetent digits let loose singing ink crescendos  
In swathes of dripping midnight and the scrape of  
Lacquered steel on imperfect planes.

Harmonic light playing stained keys in  
A hallowed concrete crypt  
Filling flesh and eyes and throats with blazing waves

A melody carried in blood, carried in the ridges of  
Fingertips. 

*************************************************

The tick of fingers  
In time  
With the tick of hands.

Oxygen and plasma thrumming  
In the beat  
Of the soul’s metronome.

Earth and moon circling  
In periods  
The solar face of Chronos

Breath sliding and falling  
In grains  
From flesh bulb to bulb.

All moving  
In syncopation.  
Life’s clockwork.

*************************************************

Do atoms dream of breathing people?

Sometimes I remember

I am hanging,  
Suspended by a web  
Of electrical pathways  
Over total oblivion.

Everything I know,  
Stored in phospholipid sacks,  
Clustered together  
In a fragile calcium shell.

I wonder if  
They conspire against me.  
Already holding my death  
Secreted away in my genes.

 

I remember  
That I am only the dream of electrons.  
And I am afraid.

But I am more afraid to  
Forget.

*************************************************

You are a star,  
Massive and distant and un-fucking-touchable.  
Giving off light and hope and inspiration  
To generations of dreamers.

Many aspire to reach you  
They plan and build and take a leap.  
And then, just as they think they succeed,  
As they believe they have reached into oblivion  
and pulled back with the universe in their palms

You set them alight.  
Everything they are and were and could have been  
Becomes dust.  
Nothing in the face of your everything.

Your eternal agony shared through your plasma,  
Twisting through void to reach out to those who try to touch,  
Spreading your solar essence out and over and through.

But as they ignite,  
They mimic you.  
Going incandescent.  
Flaring with celestial strength.

In those moments  
Between  
They understand

For half breaths  
They see what it is to go supernova,  
To be so consumed by nuclear heat,  
And they believe.

Believe that they, too,  
Could inspire and be loved  
Could bring hope  
And light.

Believe that they too,  
Could be stars.

And then they are gone

But you are a sun,

And I would beg you to let me burn.

*************************************************

A glistening oil slick lays still,  
And oh so tempting, on a platinum  
Altar. Smooth. full. Humming.

It can't be helped; I let the tips  
Of my outstretched fingers graze  
The heartblack and dip

Deep- one knuckle, two knuckles, a palm,  
A shoulder- down and down until up-  
An elbow, a wrist, a nail- and out.

My hand pulls with it strands of backwards  
Light, Letting its tune buzz in my fingerprints  
so my touch leaves private inken smears.

Away now, I turn to the west,  
Eternity dripping from my fingers and  
Filling my empty grasp with temporal void.

The sun in my eyes (or is it on my back?)  
slides under my skin, setting the oil I had  
Welcomed in alight.

My personal paintings- on my bones, on my walls-  
Burst apart in choking incandescence; beautiful  
For a second, before consumed by a well-lit everything.

*************************************************

Cold has fangs  
That it sinks into fleshandsteel, as  
Howling ice sharpens hearts  
and Teeth.

Snowy tombs build  
From thousands of infinitesimall bricks  
House the frozen dead  
With still-flowing crystal Blood .

The winter grows  
With intent both glacial and galeswift,  
Claiming all touched  
By its Eyes.

A jaggednumb silence  
Lays thick in frosty lungs,  
Choking with frigid acceptance,  
The blackened Tongue.

Icy fingers petrify skin,  
And immortalize  
The peace of heatdeath.

*************************************************

Organic vibrancy abound:  
Wildflowers as they are meant to be  
Trees older than nations gnarled and proud  
Hedge walls forming untrimmed divisions  
The earth infringed upon, uncaring.

Weathered stone ancient and unbroken  
Carrying the warmth of a hearth  
And the weight of a bloodline.  
Family lands passed on, fertile with history.

Modern obsolescence abound:  
Bottles used up and abandoned,  
Shiny packaging, split and emptied,  
Brickwork, carefully segregating.  
Society; reaching out, desperate.

Sleek plastic, fresh and cracked,  
Bearing the chill of an AC unit,  
And the promises made by icons.  
Mass produced dreams, recycled, built for profit.

A dichotomy,  
hewn and hated.


End file.
